


Technically Speaking

by Lookingforgrowth



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lookingforgrowth/pseuds/Lookingforgrowth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of those 'Imagine Your OTP' posts imagined:"One time in high school I was waiting to talk to the Vice Principal and this other kid came in and sat down next to me. He said “What are you in for?” And I said “Oh, they just want to know if it’s cool if I miss my classes tomorrow to run sound and lights for a presentation in the auditorium. What are you in for?” and he said that he stabbed a kid with a screwdriver. I told him we led very different lives and he agreed."</p>
<p>Techie!Killian and Misfit!Emma</p>
            </blockquote>





	Technically Speaking

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Ashley for being my brilliant Beta on this

She’s zeroed in on the stinging of her knuckles when the hall monitor grabs her by the collar of her flannel. 

 

“Seriously, Swan?” It’s Leroy. It’s always Leroy, and the idea of calling hall monitors by their first name to establish equality is the weirdest thing she’s ever heard. She doesn’t need to feel equal to a middle-aged grumpy man. 

 

“He grabbed my ass! I don’t hear you saying ‘Seriously, nameless-jerk-who-can’t-keep-his-hands-to-himself.”

 

“My name is August!” Mr. Nameless-jerk yells. Honestly, the anonymity was working for her. Now there’s an actual person, with a name, having a flathead screwdriver removed from his bicep. Now there’s a set of parents who are going to flip out and get her expelled from another school. 

 

“No one asked you, August!” she shoots back and he actually flinches. He doesn’t seem so handsy now. If he starts to act like the victim here, she’ll be forced to stab him again. 

 

“You know the deal.” Leroy shoves her like suddenly violence is okay. She brushes him off and marches out of shop class towards Principal Mills’ office. 

 

When she gets there, there’s this boy dressed in all black, with his dark hair and a sad expression. She slumps on the bench beside him and he brings his knees together to allow for space. It’s more than the grown men on the city bus do on her way home, so she figures he’s worth a chat. 

 

“What’re you in for?” He flinches too, less obviously but enough to make her wonder if she’s got ‘Killer’ written on her forehead. 

 

“Er, I just need to ask the principal for permission to miss class and work sound for the Sports Award show this week.” He rubs his hands on his black skinny jeans and she involuntarily finds herself a little attracted to the way he looks in them and that silly accent that makes little sense to her. He turns to her with a nervous smile and asks the same question in reply. “And you, why are you in here?” His eyes glance to her chest twice, and she almost smacks him when she drops her own eyes down to view blood smeared across the white tank-top beneath her shirt.

 

“Ah shit.” It’s the last white one she has that isn’t hole-y or stained. She’s tugging at it, to examine the damage when she mutters, “I stabbed a kid with a screwdriver.” 

 

He coughs quickly, covering his mouth for longer than needed. 

 

“Well, when I say it like that, sure...I’m the bad guy.” She throws her hands up and kicks up her combat boots on the coffee table in front of them. 

 

“How would you say it differently, love?”

 

“Love?”

 

“Oy, don’t stab me! I mean you no harm.” He bites his bottom lip to suppress the grin. 

 

“Alright pal, you’re gonna tell me a kid like you has never gotten in a fight before?”

 

“A kid like me?”

 

“Yeah, a theatre geek? You’ve never had someone tell you West Side Story was a shitty play and just go crazy on them?”

 

“You and I live very different lives, Swan.” She startles at the sound of her name. She’s not exactly a nobody, but nobody really knows her name outside of the adults who work here. 

 

“Swan?” He leans away from her in the chair, and she wonders if she really scares this kid until he speaks again.

 

“We have three classes together. You don’t know my name?” She’s almost embarrassed but she doesn’t come to school to make friends. She comes because she legally can’t drop out yet. 

 

“I barely know who my teachers are. School isn’t really my thing.” She extends her hand to him, and is so distracted by the warmth of his, she barely feels the sting when his thumb grazes her busted knuckle.

 

“It could be.” He smiles at her softly just before Principal Mills appears. 

 

“Mr. Jones.” Emma makes eye contact with the woman and she sees the irritation build. “Again?” She groans. “What did you do now? We just finished speaking two periods ago.” 

 

“I didn’t do anything.” Emma shrugs. 

 

“The blood on your shirt tells a different story, Miss Swan.”

 

“Ms. Mills, if I could just speak to you for a moment, I’ll be right on my way.” The Nameless-British-Tech-Theatre-kid pleads. No, no, no, not nameless. Jones, that’s his name. Or...last name.  What’s in a name? 

 

(The theatre is rubbing off on her already.) 

 

When she shakes her thoughts from her head, she looks up to find they’ve entered her office and shut the door. The admin is glaring at her per usual. 

 

“Why so blue, Ms. Cerulean?” The woman purses her lips at Emma with this menacing look. “You uh, you got any bandaids, maybe some antiseptic wipes? My knuckles are still bleeding from this morning.” She turns in her big, cushiony leather chair. Emma can’t help but mumble ‘shady’ under her breath before repositioning herself in the chair. 

 

In hindsight, she could have just punched him, using a weapon makes this whole thing a little more illegal, but her hand still hurt from punching a locker this morning after being given tardy detention for the third day in a row. School really isn’t her thing. Some people hate Mondays, Emma hates really any day ending in a ‘y’ but to each their own, right?

 

The office door swings open and that Jones kid comes swaggering out like he’s just been done a huge favor. Kids are so weird, with their hobbies and passions. 

 

“Miss Swan,” Principal Mills begins with a sickening smile. “Instead of me speaking with you yet again, today, Mr. Jones made a very brave, very admirable suggestion.” She glances back to the British kid and his smug grin dissipates. He scratches behind his ear and turns toward an inspirational poster about teamwork. 

 

“What’s that?”

 

“You’re going to get a hobby. One that doesn’t include you harassing the student body.”

 

“No.”

 

“You get to miss two days of class, which you would be missing either way because you’d be getting suspended otherwise. Take it or leave it.”

 

“I’m listening…” She changes her position on this. Plus, that Jones kid is kinda cute. 

 

“There’s nothing else to discuss. Get out before I find out what you really did and change my mind.” She rises but whatever-his-name-is doesn’t follow. He doesn’t turn actually to face her at all, but she sees Leroy through the glass of the door and figures she has seconds to sprint out of there. 

 

-/-

 

Heaven help and forgive him. He promised himself he wouldn’t meddle in another life but she seems helpless. Not that she can’t help herself, she just won’t. Not helpless, stubborn. 

 

For whatever reason, he’s really attracted to that. 

 

He’s been attracted to her for the last three months she’s been going to this school, with her ‘boyfriend’ jeans and combat boots and never-ending supply of plaid shirts. Her hair always looks like she washes it, and lets it air dry into these perfectly imperfect waves. She always smells like candy-sweet cucumber melon body wash and saw dust. He’s convinced the only class she likes is wood shop. 

 

“Theatre? Really?” A wild Swan appears as soon as he turns the corner from the principal’s office.

 

“She thought it was a good idea” He shrugs, trying to downplay the rate at which is heart is beating. She scared the living daylights out of him. She still does, to be honest. 

 

“Yeah, are you boning her?” It sounds so aggressive he almost thinks she’s serious. 

 

“No, God, she’s my mother’s age.”

 

“Yeah, I feel like you like older women. You’re probably into Hemmingway and scarves and shit.” 

 

“Are you quoting a Katy Perry song?” her tongue peeks out just below her teeth before disappearing and leaving a smirk in it’s wake. Her smile traps him. He’s doing this. He’s bringing Emma Swan to his world. “C’mon, we gotta go check in with Mr. Hopper.”

 

“The school guidance counselor?” She pauses and moves from him distrustfully 

 

“He also runs the tech program.” He educates. A bit of guidance wouldn’t be a bad thing. He’s hoping theatre does for her what it did for him last year. 

 

When they arrive at the theatre, the usual suspects greet him, and he gives Emma a round of introductions. There’s the super strong Smee, rigging extraordinaire, Tink, the light in the sky, and Belle, who usually stage manages all of the non-theatrical events. Jefferson from props and stage crew makes his way down the ramp toward them just as he’s finishing up. 

 

“Hey, you’re that girl from Chem?” He points like she’s an animal at the zoo. 

 

“Emma,” she corrects him, “and I’m not in Chem anymore.”

 

“Right, after you lit that girl’s textbook on fire, they switched you to Forensics, right?” A throat clears behind them before Emma can answer. The group turns to find Mr. Hopper. 

 

“Killian? A word?” They step back into the box office and Mr. Hopper shuts the door. “Principal Mills just informed me you signed us up for a rehabilitation program?”

 

“You remember how I was last year, you suggested the same thing for me and now I have a 3.8 gpa this year. I feel a sense of accomplishment and I––”

 

“I’m very proud of you.” Mr. Hopper cuts him off. “I would have suggested the same thing. I think Emma will benefit from being here. We’re a family in this theatre right?”

 

“Right.” He claps Killian on the shoulder before side-stepping to open the door for him to return to the group. 

 

“Alright, everyone has their assignments. Belle?”

 

“Yes, Jeff is props and stage crew with Peter. The athletes are, you know, strong, so utilize them back there or they will start touching things. Smee is rigging for all the backdrop changes during performances. Again, utilize a football player or two for the curtain if you need to. We only have one rehearsal, so work out the kinks as you go. Be aggressive. This is our home, and it should be respected at all costs.” Belle always gives a rousing pregame speech. He notices Emma snicker a bit behind her hand. “Tink is working spots with Anna and until we run, they’ll be focusing lights on the line. Ruby can’t make it so Killian, you are light and sound for the next two days. Do you think you can handle that and mentoring?”

 

“I set the queue for lights yesterday; we’re just pushing a button.” 

 

“Great. Why don’t you take Emma up and focus some of the Leko’s in the catwalk. I was walking in the middle and felt it was a little dark in a few spots.” Mr. Hopper suggests, “Unless you had other ideas, Belle?”

 

“We have five dance performances and one cheer between awards this year. That seems like a big priority to me. I do not want to hear anyone’s mouth if the stage is dark in some spots and they feel they weren’t ‘seen.’” Belle looks down at her clipboard in irritation. Last year’s show was full of divas. “And we need latex gloves. Show choir is apparently dancing, too.” 

 

“Oh, no. We are not putting mic-packs on for one number, it takes two hours to program enough mics for them.”

 

“They have four leads that need to be mic’d.” Belle turns the clipboard around for Killian to read over. “You’ve got a busier day than me.” 

 

“When do we run?”

 

“T-minus three hours. We’re going until eight tonight people, make plans and arrangements. Pizza around five.” Mr. Hopper claps his hands together loudly as they all break.  

 

He reaches for Emma’s hand and pulls her toward the booth door. She stalls when she sees the narrow staircase. “Where does this lead, Narnia?”

 

“Neverland, but...close?” he takes the mountain two steps at a time and she follows behind. “Do you need to call anyone, I know you weren’t planning on being here until eight tonight?” 

 

“No, there’s no one to call.”

 

“I can give you a ride home after, if you’re okay with it?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with not taking public transportation after dark?” He shrugs as they reach the booth. Emma races to the opening, gazing out at the audience. There’s a special look of wonder in her eyes and he feels nostalgic. There’s nothing like looking out at the stage from the booth for the first time and letting the sense of seclusion comfort you. There could be over 100 people down there (according to their last fire marshall visit) and it’s like a secret society of sky people in here. “This is insane. You guys are like gods.”

 

“We can get higher.” He whispers, grabbing a wrench and gloves from a shelf before pulling her toward the catwalk. He slides up one of the faders on his way. “Watch your head.” There’s a bar just before the top step that has caused many a concussion. 

 

“Holy shit.” She leans toward the lights. They’re just warming up now but he tugs her back slightly. 

 

“These will get bloody hot in a few minutes. Here.” He hands her gloves, holding the wrench between his teeth as he puts is on. There’s no one on stage yet, but Emma keeps staring down as she slides on her gloves. “Do you notice the dark spots they were talking about?”

 

“In the front.”

 

“The apron.”

 

“Yeah, okay, the apron. That curvy part.” Emma moves a couple of feet down the catwalk. “And toward the right-middle.” 

 

“Stage left.”

 

“No, the right.”

 

“Our right is stage left. You go by the actors as if you’re looking out on the audience.”

 

“Actors seem selfish. There are so many more audience members than actors. Shouldn’t we go by the audience?” 

 

“I didn’t invent it, Swan.” He moves toward her and points to a light they need to change out because it’s not on. “Okay, these lights are heavy, so we always need a spot when we’re up here.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah, so do you want to use the wrench or spot the light?” 

 

“I’ll spot the light. I’m strong like that.” She takes off her flannel and ties it around her waist. She’s left in her blood stained tank-top with these incredible arms as she braces herself against the safety ramp and grabs the light. Luckily, this light is off, but gloves or no gloves, the part she’s grabbing would seriously hurt her if it had been on for the last hour. 

 

“Not like that.” He comes behind her, too concerned with her safety to consider how her hair smells as his chest lines up against her back.

 

“Oh…” She breathes. “You theatre kids are uh, close.” He didn’t consider the awkwardness of it. Last year he helped Tink adjust the catwalk and he remembers being able to smell what she had for lunch that day. He should have thought this through. 

 

“This is how you spot the light, Swan. If you’re uncomfortable, I can ask someone else to help me.” 

 

“No, I’m kidding.” She slides her hair to one shoulder and readjusts herself against him, he thinks of dead puppies and bad cases of gingivitis to keep from feeling anything as her arse presses against him. “How am I supposed to hold this thing?”

 

“Hold this bar, underhand. Both sides.” She does as she’s told, he barely guides her wrists. “Good.” I’m going to loosen the C-clamp and you’ll feel it just drop, so brace yourself.” She gasps lightly when it hits that loose point and she bends her knees a fraction before pulling up. “Good, now pull it down to unhook the clamp and I’ll help you lift it over the bar.” He guides her again, a little more comfortable touching her this time, before lifting it over the safety bar and setting it down gently on the floor. 

 

“Oh my god. I thought you were being cautious, but it really does just drop.” 

 

“Was it okay?”

 

“Yeah. I can do like ten more, I was just, not prepared.”

 

“Despite all my preparing.”

 

“Right.” She snorts to herself and steals a little more of his heart with the sound. “Are we gonna do anymore?”

 

-/-

 

Maybe an hour has passed but it feels like minutes when they finish changing out all of the dead lights. She’s not the type to get flustered over the closeness of a boy, but he’s a really cute boy who is passionate about something, and wears just the right amount of that Chocolate Axe body spray to make her head spin when he’s close to her. 

 

He hands her a wrench now and it’s definitely heated up in the ‘catwalk’ with all of these lights on. He doesn’t have to stand behind her as much, they’re mainly adjusting the focus with the occasional tilting of the lights. The terminology escapes her, but she really thinks the fact that teenagers are doing jobs like this for the school is bad ass. 

 

“You know, you don’t need to go to college to be a tech. Techs can travel around the world touring with shows, or music tours, or even broadcasting companies and you can ––” 

 

“You spend a lot of time with Mr. Hopper, dontcha?” She has to cut him off, he’s getting way too after-school special on her. 

 

“I’m just saying. It’s a profession with options. And if you want, you can go to school for tech and make even more money. I know a kid who moved to NYC after graduation, he’s working for a theatre off broadway, but they’re paying for his schooling so he can make more money and take over the sound board.” 

 

“That’s actually pretty cool.” 

 

“Yeah. Do you like it? Teching? I know it’s only been an hour, but do you like it, or hate me for suggesting it?” He’s stopped fussing with the light he’s working on to actually talk to her, total focus on her eyes alone. 

 

“I don’t hate it.” She shrugs, thinking about the way he worded the question. “Or you.” 

 

“Great.” He nods, before getting back to work. 

 

It’s another thirty minutes up there before she hears the final bell chime for school to end for the day. It’s a reflex of hers to race away from this place when she hears it. 

 

“You’re not staying?” He has one massive light in each hand, the muscles in his arms flexed from the strain. 

 

“Yeah, totally. I just...forgot.” she laughs awkwardly, turning away from him. “You’re not getting rid of me yet.” 

 

“Looking good down here!” Tink shouts up from the stage. 

 

“Thanks!” He looks so proud with his chest puffed out and his arms still flexing from those damn lights. 

 

“Tink huh? That’s a...different name.” 

 

“We just call her that because she went rogue on us last year and played Tinkerbelle in our production of Peter Pan.” He glances over to her with a goofy smirk as he recalls the details of the story. “She’s the shortest girl in the troupe, the only one we could get away with flying other than Pan.” 

 

“You should have used Leroy.” She mumbles under her breath. He misses it as he’s already smiling back down at Tink, wordlessly. “Have you uh, ever brought her up here and...not adjusted lights?” He turns back swiftly, almost insulted. 

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Don’t be coy.” She walks a few feet forward on the narrow bridge toward him. “Are theatre kids like band kids? You know what they say about band kids.” He raises the most comical brow like he’s too virginal to speak of that. And she realizes, he may be. Just because he’s cute doesn’t mean he’s experienced. “Are you not...I mean, are you…”

 

“Are you jealous?”

 

“Jealous? I don’t even know you.” She doesn’t get jealous, sure, that girl’s sorta cute in a miniature way, but she would be happy to hear that he’s hooking up with anyone. Great for them. 

 

“True, but you like me. I can feel it.” He looks so smug, she wants to smack him. ‘Like’ is a big jump from attraction. He takes her silence as an invitation, another two feet dissolve from the distance between them, and his black vans are mingling with the toes of her combat boots. “What exactly would we do up here, beside adjusting lights?”

 

“You tell me.” She sways forward just a bit. “What have you done up here?” Maybe he licks his lips, she’s not sure after suffering a momentary lapse in her vision when his smile blinds her. She blames her overheating flesh to the dozen of lights burning at a combined 10,000 degrees but now he’s close enough to kiss and she finds she really wants to. Maybe ‘like’ isn’t all that big a jump. 

 

“Jones!” Killian backs away slowly with a smirk and she realizes he’s been holding these goddamn lights this whole time. He may be a thin kid, but there’s superhuman strength in his arms. 

 

“We’re coming down!” He yells over his shoulder. “Coming, Swan?” 

 

-/-

 

He doesn’t have his wits about him since the moment she sat beside him this morning. It’s going to be a long two days if every time she looks in his direction, his heart beats into overdrive. She scares him in ways unimaginable. Being frightened because she could kill him is one thing, and he’s a little excited by that to be quite honest. Now he’s fearful he’s taken with her, and the crush he had before is snowballing into this desire to know everything about her, to spend more time with her, to make her smile and laugh every fifteen minutes or so. He’s terrified, quite frankly. She could be a natural disaster, and he just began to rebuild from the last one.

 

“So, what made you go into tech?” Emma locks eyes with him like they’re the only two in the room. It could be in his head, his feelings could be clouding his perception, but the chattering of others fades away. 

 

They’re all sitting around eating pizza on break just before they start the run-through. All of the recipients are present. All of the acts are backstage in costume. He’s shown Emma how to operate a wireless-handheld and the queues on the light board. She knows how to play house music from the soundboard and talk on intercom. She’s most likely the quickest study he’s ever known. Everyone has taken to her so well, he can’t help but hope she wants to continue when these two days are up. 

 

“I like being a part of something.” She considers his words for a second, and he hopes he can convey just how much it means to be a part of something instead of being alone all the time. “I used to only look out for myself. It had worked out fine for a while, but one day it didn’t and it’s nice to look out for others and have others look out for you.” Maybe he is too much like Mr. Hopper now, but Mr. Hopper isn’t exactly a bad guy. He helped him through a rough patch. 

 

“What brings you to tech, Emma?” Belle is eating over her clipboard as she studies cues but makes a point to be kind to his guest. 

 

“Killian.” She mumbles behind her pizza. He’s not sure if she’s embarrassed to mention the real reason, or afraid she learned his name wrong in the last few hours she’s been acknowledging his existence. 

 

“Oh...are you guys…” He’s afraid to make eye contact and see how quickly she shuts that down. 

 

“We just met.” Emma responds slowly, scanning the group for their reaction.

 

“I thought you guys had three classes together?” Jefferson is one of those people who really can’t read a room. Now it’s evident he’s talked about her before today, and all his appeal is gone. He’s back to being the geeky kid she ignored for the last three months. 

 

“We do.” Emma quickly defends. “I just never met him until today.”

 

It’s a collective ‘Oh’ from the crew and an awkward silence to follow. 

 

“So...you decided to join him in teching a show the first day you met him?” Tink asks after a few moments. He doesn’t want to make it awkward by changing the subject, so he glances over to Belle, pleading with her to do it for him. 

 

“Alright guys. Finish up your pizza, we have to start this run. Who’s my timer?” Belle asks tucking her clipboard beneath her arm.

 

“Me!” Anna chirps, tossing the rest of her food in the trash and rubbing her hands on her jeans.

 

“Get on ‘com, I’m going to start you from 15 before curtain.” Belle throws a thumb up at the crew before walking down the flight of stairs. “Everyone needs to be on ‘com in seven minutes!” she shouts from halfway down. He’s relieved when everyone starts to move about and out of the booth. It’ll just be Anna and Tink in the booth with he and Emma, and they’ll be spread at least ten feet away from the boards. 

 

As Emma makes her way to her place, he reaches out to her but she maneuvers around his reach and gets her headset on before he can say anything. It may be premature to think but he can’t go from almost kissing this girl to almost strangers all over again. 

 

-/-

 

His voice sounds so good over the intercom system. Something about the mic’d headset makes his diction almost sinful. 

 

“Five minute warning- house lights” Belle calls the cue and she knows he showed her the proper ‘fader’ to adjust, but she hesitates. He guides her hand while his eyes focus on the stage, and she thinks the damn board shocks her when his fingers intertwine with hers. It’s a bold move to make for a guy who hasn’t said a word to her for the last three months, but has apparently said plenty of words about her to his friends. “Good, Emma. Now, everyone remember to tell me if you’re on or off headset.”

 

“How do they know we have classes together?” She finally says after the audience lights have warned everyone they’re about to begin.

 

“This seems like a question you can answer yourself, Swan.” 

 

“You talk about me to your theatre friends?”

 

“Places” Belle calls through the ‘com. 

 

“In passing.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but he looked pretty offended earlier when she didn’t know his name, and pretty embarrassed just now when she said they’d only met today. 

 

Maybe it feels like they’ve known each other for months, he has a way of looking at her when she talks like they’re comfortable. He has a way of turning her inner monologue into a duo scene. That thing about college, and again with being a part of something, he’s not just saying these things because he’s a talker. 

 

“Do you have a crush on me, Killian Jones?”

 

About six ‘yes’s’ are heard through the intercom. He shuts his eyes instantly, dragging a slow hand down his face. When it passes his cheeks, this adorable dimple winks at her, and she develops a full-blown crush of her own instantly. 

 

“Maybe, mute yourself next time.” He chuckles, his eyes still focused ahead. 

 

“Yeah, sorry...I’m new here, okay?” 

 

“Lights-standby.” Belle’s voice is all business and Emma doesn’t want to mess up again so she keeps her eyes straight ahead. “Sound-standby”

 

“Lights.” He states for her, giving her a look to remember to call back. “Sound.” 

 

“Lights-go.” She slides the fader down and Killian nods and smiles at her. 

 

“Sound-go.” He fades the ‘house’ music out, and turns the cheesy stock award show intro music.

 

“Alright guys, buckle in. This is going to be a long night.” 

 

Every moment after that is magic. Well, it’s dress-rehearsal, so there are mess-ups, but even the mess-ups are magical. She forgets about falling for Killian when she’s falling head-over-heels for tech theatre. 

 

-/-

 

They finish cleaning up around 8:15. He’s been working diligently to finish sooner than later. Emma went down to grab the handhelds and make sure they’re charged for tomorrow. He’s like a proud teacher, watching her catch on so effortlessly. There were countless moments during rehearsal where he’d glance over and see her smiling to nothing but the stage before them. 

 

“You did great, Emma. I’m really glad you’re here.” Belle always makes sure to give her back pats after runs, but this one means a lot to him.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. I hope you tech more shows with us. You’re a quick study. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Emma smiles at Belle’s fleeting figure. He approaches her near the box office. 

 

“Did you like it?” he muses as she’s still facing the other way. 

 

“Yeah, it was uhm…” When she turns back around, she drops her grin and nods slowly, “it was cool, you know.” 

 

“Yeah, I know.” He winks as he swings his backpack over his shoulder. “You ready?”

 

“You don’t have to drop me off if you’re gonna be late getting home.” 

 

“It’s fine. I already told you I would, and my brother’s not getting home til 2am. He’ll never know when I got there.”

 

They talk about it in the car, the fact that she feels like she learned more in one day of tech than the last 11 years of school. They talk about how much she likes focusing lights and turning them on, and how beautiful everyone looks on stage from the booth. She makes it sound a lot more than ‘cool’ on the drive to her house. 

 

And then they get to her house and she gets a little hesitant about leaving. He tells her he can pick her up for school tomorrow if she wants, reminds her to wear all black. She nods like she can’t hear him and he wonders if she’s lingering for the right reasons, instead of the wrong ones. 

 

“I am really glad you agreed to come today.” He attempts, but she’s still staring out her window at the house they’re in front of. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.” She turns back around and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you at seven?”

 

“Yeah.” It takes everything in him to remain neutral as his cheek burns from where her lips were. “Seven.”

 

-/-

 

He’s outside at 6:45. He doesn’t honk or anything but she can see him from her bathroom window and wants to roll her eyes at how square he is. She knows there’s more to him than this version, the responsible, passion-having, respectful young man. He has some darkness in his eyes and she wants to know why. 

 

“Hey.” He smiles at her when she gets in the car and hands her a black sweatshirt. “I saw you shiver last night and brought you something you could wear in the booth.”

 

“Thanks.” she doesn’t have to hold it to her nose to know it smells like him and God help her, he is never getting this back. He pulls away from the curb and they’re on their way to school so early. “So, what are we going to do from 7:45 until 9 tonight?”

 

“Oh...we’re not doing anything until fifth period, but on days we work shows for other departments, Mr. Hopper makes sure we get ‘vacation time’ since we can’t get paid for doing professional work.”

 

“What?”

 

“We just hang out inside school grounds all day. We get a free pass on assignments and don’t have to go to any classes because we’re staying here over eight hours.” 

 

“Are you kidding me? If all you said was that one thing about this whole thing, you would have had me sold. How many of these gigs do you do a year?”

 

“This is our third. The later in the year, the more frequent they are. All of the clubs have their own ‘shows’ and we work them for ‘vacation days’ and free food. The pizza was on the athletic department’s dime.” 

 

“Well, this is a nice operation you’re running here, Jones.” she kicks her feet up on his dash and reclines back, a new wave of comfort overcoming her. 

 

“I’m not...I’m not running anything, Swan.” he chuckles so warmly, it blooms within her own gut. She contemplates this for a minute or two. She really did have the best high school experience she’s ever had last night. It would be the first time she’s ever been a part of anything and maybe, for once in her life, she’ll have friends. 

 

“What if I want in on more shows? Can I work more shows with you guys?”

 

“You want to tech more?” He pulls into the school parking lot, and puts the car in park before unbuckling and turning to her. “Did you really like it?” His eyes zero in on hers and she gets that nagging feeling like he cares about her again. 

 

“Yeah, I really did.” She’s not always 100 percent honest, but she couldn’t breathe long enough to lie. It’s not everyday she feels like someone cares about her. His eyes pan to her lips for a second, he licks his in time before meeting her eyes again. She drops her feet to rise to the occasion. He’s giving her his undivided and he deserves the same from her, as she straightens up her form to talk about it. 

 

“We can talk to Mr. Hopper; he’d sign whatever you need to transfer out of shop into tech. This is just one part of it, but when we have our own productions, we design and build sets, there’s a shop in the back with all the same tools. You wouldn’t need any training.” He starts to ramble almost and she feels the need to stop him so...she kisses him, quickly too. No build-up, no theatrics. 

 

She kisses him and wonders seconds later if she just threw away her shot to be a part of anything. She kisses him and she can’t stop to just appreciate his freshly-brushed breath or his soft lips and the smell of the Irish Spring bar soap he must use to wash his face in the morning. No, when she kisses him, she’s bombarded with fear and thoughts of how quickly she could lose the happy place she’s just found here. If things don’t work out, they’re his friends and this is his Neverland and she’s just a misfit he tried to fix.

 

She pulls away and storms out of the car as quickly as her awkwardly positioned body will let her, his sweatshirt still held to her chest.

 

-/-

 

“Do you want to say anything to me today? We have another 12 hours together.” They’ve only been at school for 90 minutes and she would rather be in class than sitting awkwardly in the booth as everyone hangs around chatting and catching up on school work. 

 

“What do you want to talk about?” she looks anywhere and everywhere but his direction.

 

“Not that kiss, because apparently that’s off limits.” He laughs but it’s really not all that funny. She really didn’t mean to do that. She’s known him 22 hours and she’s surging at him like some idiot who can’t contain herself after someone smiles at her the right way. 

 

But it’s not just his smile, it’s the way his eyes focus only on hers when she speaks, it’s the fact that feeling his interest in her is the most intoxicating thing she’s ever experienced. He’s not some perv capitalizing on her daddy issues with a generic compliment about her looks. He’s someone approaching her with actual concern about her existence, and it’s...it’s nice. 

 

“What happened to make you join theatre?” 

 

He glances around, the rest of the crew seems preoccupied, no one’s really in earshot, so she assumes that’s why he answers. “My dad left.” 

 

“When?”

 

“18 months ago. My mom died when I was little and it was the three of us, until I woke up one day and Liam told me it would just be the two of us from now on.” 

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

“Don’t be. He wasn’t what I needed in my life, this was.” He looks around again and she tries to see what he sees. Belle is in the corner doing her AP homework, Tink and Anna are playing hot hands and laughing every few minutes as the stage crew guys just joke around in the corner. They all seem different than each other, not like most cliques where it’s a carbon copy of the same personality ten times. “I think this might be what you need too.” He says it with certainty and she’s inclined to agree. 

 

-/-

 

This isn’t the rehearsal, so he has to focus just a tad bit more tonight, yet he feels more distracted than ever. She kissed him. Emma Swan kissed him in his own car in the school parking lot not hours ago. She ran out five seconds later, but she still kissed him and in that moment he struggled to believe he was even awake. She was gone before he could catalogue the way she tastes or the direction her head tilts. She was gone before he could process what was going on and for the sake of not scaring her further away, he’s been keeping his lips sealed about it. 

 

“Sound-Standby.” Belle breaks his thoughts again. Every minute or so there’s another voice in his ear that is not his own, and it’s not helping him sort this thing out.

 

“Sound,” he confirms.

 

“Lights-Standby.”

 

“Lights.” She’s wearing his sweatshirt, her legs crossed in her chair as she stares out at the stage, still wonderstruck. 

 

“Mic two off. Sound-23 go.” 

 

“What cue am I on?” She asks off ‘com. “I think I’m lost. Cue-22 is this one right?” Emma points to a fader and he covers her hand and shakes his head. 

 

“I’m off headset.” He warns Belle before tossing the set to the table before moving behind her and guiding her hands. It’s the only queue he didn’t program. “We’re at intermission. Fade to black and bring the house lights up slowly. I’m off headset so you gotta let me know.” 

 

“Now.” She whispers and he nudges her fingers against the controls. His jaw brushes against her cheek during the seconds of darkness. When the house lights come on, she’s staring at him too intensely for him to return the gesture. “I’m off headset.” He moves his hands from hers as she whips her headset off, shaking her hair from the cord and setting it on the table. “How long do we have?”

 

“Fifteen.” She nods and stands beside him, grabbing onto his shirt and tugging him toward the catwalk without another word. He follows her up until they’re standing in the darkness, a small glimpse of the house lights filtering through. 

 

“So…” She turns slowly to face him and he’s interested to hear anything she has to say. The silence was deafening. “You’re right, or I think you’re right. I agree with what you said earlier.”

 

“Earlier?”

 

“This might be what I need.”

 

“You want to stay in tech?”

 

“I do, which is why I ran away after kissing you earlier. I’ve never had anything I didn’t want to mess up before, and now I have two. It’s been one day and I now have two things I want right now, and...”

 

“We can just be friends if you’re afraid I’ll ruin this for you.”

 

“I’m afraid I’ll ruin it. I’m afraid I’ll ruin everything.”

 

“There are 1000 aspects of technical theatre that can hurt you, but this won’t be one of them, Emma.”   
  


“That was cheesy,” she grins anyhow, and it melts his heart. They were interrupted before, but he’s been counting the minutes they’ve been up here in his head to keep from over-thinking. Everyone should be taking bathroom breaks for at least another three. 

 

“Safety is a serious concern.” He replies as he moves further down the narrow path toward her. “We could be injured in a number of ways.” 

 

“Working on the catwalk without a buddy is one, isn’t it?” She sways into him when he reaches the same proximity they were standing in yesterday. He rests his hands on her hips when she wraps her arms around his neck. “Lucky me to have one, then.”

 

This time when she kisses him, he has time to savor the sugary taste of skittles left on her tongue and the way she smells all wrapped up in his scent. He takes the time to appreciate the smoothness of her lips and the way she laughs against his lips when their chests bump against one another. Most importantly, he gets the simple comfort of knowing that won’t be the last one. 

 

They return from intermission hand-in-hand, and if the crew notice, they don’t mention it. The rest of the show runs smoothly; Emma remembers the rest of the cues, and manages to fade to black perfectly at the end of the show. 

 

When he takes her home tonight, it’s not the unexplained lingering that last night held, but a sweet kiss goodnight. 

 

-/-

 

It’s a month or two later and Emma is teching her first official theatre show. Killian and Belle have tried prepping her on the woes of tech week, but she didn’t listen. Now she’s in the third day of rehearsals and has grown a dependency on energy drinks. He hasn’t returned back from the store run with hers so she’s ‘testy’ to say the least. 

 

“Emma, can we get you to tighten the hinges on the door?” Mr. Hopper is a lot less calm himself when the show is actually in his department. “One of the actors says it felt like it was going to fall off on them.” She smiles and nods, heading on stage with a screwdriver to fix the problem. 

 

“Did you put it together the first time?” A guy in the cast asks as she’s tightening one screw. “That’s hot; a chick who knows how to handle tools.” 

 

“I’d be careful there, mate.” Killian appears before she can say much of anything, “She’s lethal with a screwdriver.” He hands her the Rockstar and motions for the actor to take a hike. 

 

“Thank you, but I can handle myself.” She kisses his cheek despite the glare she’s just given him.

 

“Don’t I know it. I have fourth period with that bloke from your shop class. He was too afraid to tell anyone what happened because he thinks you’ll come back and finish the job.” Maybe a couple of months ago, but she’s got something to lose now. Tech weeks may be stressful, but it’s the kind of stress that has her feeling accomplished when it’s all over, not just relieved. 

 

Kids with their passions and hobbies. If someone told her a couple months ago she’d be a part of something, she’d turn and walk away. Now the last time she saw Ms. Mills was to get permission to miss school for the daytime performances of the show. 

 

“How’d you know I’d like it so much?” she asks as they’re cleaning up from rehearsal that day. He pauses what he’s doing to press a kiss to her forehead. 

 

“You and I live two very similar lives.”

  
  



End file.
